


The butterfly effect

by herumtreiber



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dominance, M/M, Photographs, Plot Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:58:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herumtreiber/pseuds/herumtreiber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dealing with the aftermath of the Final Battle was difficult for Harry, until he found a way - with Draco lending a masterful helping hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The butterfly effect

 

His bare body glistening with water drops, Harry spread his legs, wiggling. Draco's wool sweater scratched Harry's wet chest, his golden watch pressing against the Gryffindor's forearm.  
  
"Do you like this, Gryff? Answer me!" Draco's palm splayed against Harry's cheek - softly caressing him - belied the harshness of his words. The scent of the Slytherin's cologne became fainter by the second as the steam rose in the room.  
  
"I do."  
  
Harry's meekness aroused Draco beyond measure. To have the hero of the Wizarding World under him was the most potent aphrodisiac he could think of. He kissed Harry hungrily, his tongue invading the Gryffindor's mouth as water drops fell on his trousers and black sweater. "You forgot to add something, bloody Gryff!"  
  
Harry blushed hotly. "Sir."  
  


\--

 

  
\--

  
In the aftermath of the Final Battle, suffering from the loss of so many of his friends, Harry could barely stand the thought of going back to Hogwarts. He felt out of control. The expectations of the wizards and witches acquired almost a physical weight on his chest, sometimes the anxiety made it hard to breathe. What his friends perceived as a festive atmosphere was quite oppressive to the Vanquisher. He went through the motions of going back to their Eight Year so lifelessly that Ginny drifted away from him.  
  
A casual encounter with Malfoy changed all that. They exchanged insults and raised their wands, the struggle ending in a fist fight. Harry was surprised to discover he became aroused when Draco pinned him against the cobbled street in front of Gambol & Japes.  
  
After the fight, he returned to Grimmauld and wanked himself raw, imagining what Malfoy's body looked like beneath his robes. As he fisted his cock, sprawled on the huge lonely bed, Harry first pictured Ron ploughing into Malfoy, ordering him to do humiliating things. He became even more aroused when he imagined himself on the receiving end, on all fours as Malfoy fucked him.  
  
When they returned to Hogwarts, Harry found perverse pleasure in submitting to the boy who was held with scorn and contempt in the Wizarding World. Up to that point Harry had scant knowledge of pleasure, perverse or otherwise.  
  
Harry found structure in surrendering, forgetfulness in yielding to other's demands. He clung to this thought with hope. Perhaps with time, that surrender would allow him to rebuild his life along other lines, to forget for a while the anguish he felt when he saw Colin's lifeless hand, so small and pale in the rubble of the Great Hall. The painfully empty hole in his life that had been filled for such a short time by Remus, who rekindled in him the hope wrenched from him when his godfather died.  
  
The loss of control, the peace in giving in that followed lent order to his life. Draco soaked up the thrill of having Potter under his thumb, discreetly of course. Their classmates at Hogwarts would be so outraged if they knew the rules of their encounters, Draco would be lucky to escape with his life.  
  
The two Hogwarts students had a safe word which hadn't been uttered yet.  
  


\--

  
  
"Answer me, Gryff!" Harry came back to the present with a start, moaning when he felt the hard length of Draco's clothed prick rubbing against his leaking, wet cockhead.  
  
"Sorry… sir."  
  
"For your lack of attention, you are going to do all the work this time." Draco rolled sideways, pointing to his bulging crotch. "Ride me!"  
  
When Harry crouched above him, the Slytherin's thumb pressed against Harry's red, angry glans, gathering a dollop of precome. His hand sneaking behind Harry's wet balls, he teasingly rubbed his rim as the brunet grunted, squirming.  
  
"I was going to eat you out, Gryff! But due to your woeful lack of manners, I won't."  
  
Harry moaned brokenly, frantically fumbling with the buttons of the black trousers. He noted idly that the soft cloth was dry. Draco had cast a repelling charm only on himself, not bothering with the Gryffindor. The thought made Harry's cock throb. He wanted Draco's prick inside him as soon as possible. Having freed the glistening cock, Harry looked at Draco for his permission before casting a lubricating charm. He bent down to kiss reverently the twitching tip, wet with precome and the water from the shower.  
  
He crouched above the blond, grabbing the prick with the same ease as if it was one of the Quidditch brooms in the next room. In his haste to feel the thick girth invading him, his right knee slipped on the wet floor and Draco's cock sunk halfway. Harry screamed in pain.  
  
Immediately he felt Draco's hand on the inside of his thighs, supporting him, lifting him up. "You alright, Gryffie?" The Slytherin's voice was hoarse with arousal, tinged with concern.  
  
Harry nodded distractedly. His muscles clenching hungrily around the cock that stretched him a bit too much, he shivered.  
  
Draco's hand toyed with his nipples, pinching the brown nubs as he drawled, "Careful, Harry. Didn't lock the door. If you scream too much, anyone could enter and see the Saviour of the Wizarding World riding a former Death Eater."  
  
"Don't care!" Harry whimpered. His voice descended to a whisper as he felt his insides filling wonderfully, his backside becoming flush with the blond's groin. "You… were never..."  
  
Harry was on fire, the earlier pain had given way to intense pleasure as he bobbed up and down on Draco's cock. He grinded his hips in a circular motion, eliciting sensations that made Harry think his prostate was throwing sparks.  
  
They established a rhythm. Harry would move down as Draco jerked his hips upwards, impaling him completely. When Harry flexed his wet, powerful thighs and rose, Draco would lie completely still on the slippery ceramic tiles of the Quidditch changing room.  
  
"Go on, Gryff," moaned Draco. "Milk my prick."  
  
Harry felt his balls tightening. It wouldn't be long until he came. With Draco, everything was so intense it made him forget the world and its pressures on him.  
  
Harry's thighs strained with the effort of supporting his body as he rode the blond like he was atop a thestral. His hot, wet channel surrounded the blond's girth, softly massaging it on the upward thrust, loosening its hold on the downward stroke.  
  
His cock slapped against Draco's abdomen and his own abs and he forgot they could be discovered at any moment, shouting when Draco's thumb swiped his wet cockhead.  
  
Looking at the blond for permission, Harry's fist enclosed his sensitive cockhead, rubbing it in a corkscrew motion. A few seconds was all it took for Harry to come.  
  
His rim clenched tightly, coaxing Draco's release out of him.  
  
Harry leaned down on the prostrate body of the blond, twitching all over due to the constant prickling of the water drops. He sighed when the shaft slid out of him, the water drops cleaning his gaping hole from the remains of their lovemaking.  
  
The two Hogwarts students were too tired to notice the two blue butterflies that fluttered their wings against the oak door of the changing room. Yet their presence was duly noted by two ghostly figures, quite invisible to Harry and Draco.

 

The Minister of Magic pulled his face out of the Pensieve, followed an instant later by his partner.  
  
"The new model works perfectly; it even portrays memories within memories. Felt so real," said the Minister, brushing daintily the lapels of his expensive robes. "I'd forgotten how intense we felt in those days. Did you notice the butterflies? I wonder where they came from."  
  
The other man nodded distractedly, caressing for a moment the etched runes on the borders of the Pensieve. "Butterflies are magical creatures, as Luna would say. We have to hurry, though. Our friends are waiting for us. It isn't everyday we celebrate our anniversary."  
  
The Minister of Magic touched softly his husband's cheek, vanishing their robes wandlessly. "You never said the safe word."  
  
Kissing him, his partner replied, "I never had the urgency, Harry."  
  
"Really?"

  


  
"I felt I needed the safe word. I was afraid I'd hurt you; in those days you were reckless." Draco smirked, sitting on the desk. "You still are, in fact."  
  
The sounds of bickering voices came from the other room. _'Aww, you promised me you'd lend me Wickers, Al.'_  
  
 _'Get your own ferret, Scorp!'_  
  
Draco quirked an eyebrow at Harry, who blushed. Trying to change the topic, Harry said, "Percy told me about the Butterfly Effect. Supposedly if a butterfly flutters its wings in…"  
  
"China, it creates a storm here," finished Draco, his lips curling upward in his inimitable smirk. "Granger told me about it when she was preparing your schedule for your meeting with the Chinese Minister."  
  
 _'James, give us Wickers!'_ The sounds of running feet followed those words.  
  
Draco exchanged a warm smile with Harry. Picking up a white quill from the desk, the blond twirled it between his fingers. "Small effects create great variations, indeed. Our meeting in that alley caused a ripple in our relationship that affected first us, then the school and finally the world. It made Ginny and Astoria…"  
  
Harry tuned out his husband's words, smiling secretively. For him the changes were much more intimate and delicate, they had enabled him to rebuild his life around a partner that proved to be much more than a dom. The patterns created by Harry's surrender mutated with time until one day, they found they didn't need them. They loved each other, and that was enough.  
  


\--

  
  
The two butterflies followed for a while the Avon River. Near the place that was once known as _Cathoir Gall_ , they paused for a moment, their wings moving above the pond, as blue as themselves.  
  
After a few seconds they continued their flight, their colour a stark contrast to the grey monoliths of Stonehenge. Finally they stopped on the branch of an Elder tree.  
  
Their wings fluttered minutely, their antennae moved. A dash of hope was collected, and a rebirth prepared

  
  



End file.
